Page 19 of Dear Mr. Firefighter
A few days later
Everything had fallen into place perfectly. Our last two letters said all that we really had to say without meeting each other. Both of us had spilled our heart, came to terms with our hesitations, and agreed to push through them with simple words.
I want to meet you.
I want to meet you too.
I read Chloe’s first two letters almost every day, processing what she said, and trying to understand the woman that had been soured on the prospect of love. The third letter told the real story though—it told a story of hope.
I wasn’t sure if we would hit it off once we got to meet each other or not, but I was looking forward to the opportunity in front of me. I might have a real chance with someone that would value a relationship and fight for it, just like I always knew I would. Like anything worth having, it wouldn’t be easy. We were pushing past our hesitations, but they would always linger in our thoughts until we were able to prove ourselves to each other. That knowledge would be our strength, because it would help us understand the complexities before they ever came crashing into our relationship like they eventually would.
“Welcome home.” I looked up at Abby, but she walked by me without saying a word.
“She’s not happy.” Bridget walked in behind Abby and closed the front the door.
“What’s wrong?” I leaned back and watched as Abby went to her bedroom and closed the door.
“Jimmy Lawson broke up with her and now he has a new girlfriend.” Bridget walked into the living room and sat down. “She’s heartbroken.”
“Oh fuck.” I exhaled sharply. “See, this is why she doesn’t need a boyfriend at ten years old!”
“Having your heart broken is just part of growing up.” Bridget shrugged. “I had mine ripped out of my chest a few times before I was teenager.”
“Yeah, I still remember you asking me to beat up your first boyfriend after he dumped you.” I chuckled under my breath.
“You should have too!” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe you need to pay Jimmy Lawson a visit.”
“Tempting, but I don’t think beating up a ten year old boy is going to heal Abby’s heartbreak—just like it wouldn’t have done a damn thing for you when you were that age.” I leaned back against the couch and sighed. “She’s growing up way too fast.”
“Yes she is.” Bridget nodded. “Pretty soon we’ll have to have the realtalkwith her.”
“I’m going to leave that to you.” I nodded quickly. “I’ll just be here to punch any guy in the face that tries to touch her.”
“You know that won’treallywork.” Bridget rolled her eyes. “She’ll have to make her own decisions when the time comes, but we’ll have a good structure in place.”
“So, you’re not going to let her start dating when she’s fourteen?” I turned my head towards Bridget.
“Hell no.” Bridget shook her head back and forth. “Dad was a fucking idiot. He should have put his foot down and told me no.”
“Dad never gave a shit.” I shrugged. “We thought it was great when we were kids. Mom tried, but without his support…”
“Yeah.” Bridget exhaled sharply. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Abby to death, but I probably wouldn’t have ended up pregnant at fifteen if they had done a little more parenting.”
“That’s the guy I really should have punched in the face.” I growled under my breath. “Fucking asshole, leaving town the second you told him you were pregnant with his kid.”
“We learn from our mistakes, but Abby isn’t one that I’ll ever regret.” She shrugged. “I was angry at the time, but he’s had ten years to reach out and he’s never even met his daughter, so fuck it—he isn’t worth punching at this point.”
“Maybe.” I sighed. “Okay, are you going to try to talk to her, or should I?”
“I tried on the way home. You can give it a shot, but she might not be ready yet.” Abby leaned forward to stand. “I need to start dinner. I’m sure she’ll be hungry at some point.”
I walked down the hallway and knocked on Abby’s door. She told me to go away. There was a part of me that wanted to open the door, hug her, and tell her that things were going to be fine, but she wasn’t ready for that. I would just have to let her take some time to process her heartbreak. I went back to the living room and ate dinner with Bridget. We were just about to finish when Abby’s door opened, and she slowly walked down the hallway with red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I looked over at her as she sat down.
“I’m hungry.” She looked down at her plate. “But I want ice cream.”
“Are you just using this break-up to get ice cream for dinner?” Bridget narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like something I would have done at your age.”
